


I Know Love

by Pronunciation_Hermy_One



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 02:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18295202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pronunciation_Hermy_One/pseuds/Pronunciation_Hermy_One
Summary: Cupid has a list, but Hermione Granger is proving to be the most difficult match yet.





	1. A Swing and a Miss

**Author's Note:**

> What a treat it was to participate in this awesome fest! Big thanks for giving us such fun and amazing prompts to play and build in! 
> 
> Hugest thanks always to Frumpologist, my person, for alternating between kicking my butt, pushing and pulling wherever and whenever I need it. I love and appreciate you SO much!

The moment she enters the bar in her no-nonsense shoes, hair in a tightly coiffed bun and her “Thursday” robes, I know I’m fucked. 

Her name has been on my list for more time than I care to admit now. At first, I just thought my aim was off, but frankly, I’ve not had a miss with anyone else in an impressively long time. I’m good. Really good. 

But, here she is. Single, still. And wearing those god-awful, drab brown robes she usually reserves for Thursday, her least favorite day of the week. 

She nods at the bartender and takes her seat primly as he smirks into the glass he’s drying with a rag. “Another tonight, Granger?”

“So it would seem.” She calls over her shoulder without looking back.

I rub my hands down my face and take a deep breath. This is getting embarrassing.

“Not expecting much success?”

She sniffs, crossing and uncrossing her legs as she leans back into her chair, eyeing the door warily. “Just not particularly excited.”

“I see that.” 

She purses her lips as she stares at the door and he goes back to working. 

I’ve never been particularly bad at my job before Hermione Granger. I’m not entirely certain what is happening, but I’ve taken aim and missed more than ever before for…too long, now. After a series of terrible dating service debacles, Hermione has turned to the aid of her friends. The problem is, they seem to all have terrible taste. I know this, because before I intervened, they were involved in the most terrible of relationships themselves. 

I gaze around the pub and smile, taking pride in my past successes. Stan Shunpike and Millicent Bullstrode are to be wed next week-- a particular stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. They’re currently sharing a plate of chips and he’s whispering something in her ear. Judging by the color spreading across her cheeks, it’s something filthy. 

The door chimes ring and I glance up as a tall man walks through the door. Hermione hisses, a sharp inhale, as he walks through the door. She’s mumbling and shaking her head ever so slightly as he swaggers toward her, coming to a stop just in front of her. The grin spreading across his face makes even me raise an eyebrow. 

“Hermione!”

“Mr. McLaggen.”

“Aw, doll. I think we can start on more familiar terms than that!”

“Formality suits me.”

He laughs and she cringes. Actually cringes. Visibly. It’s a full body shudder. 

He doesn’t seem to notice. 

“It’s been a long time.”

“It certainly has.” She concedes as the bartender strides up beside them. 

“How can I help you this evening?”

“Just pumpkin juice, please.” Hermione speaks quickly into her lap. 

“A firewhiskey.” The man murmurs, staring intently at Hermione. “So, what keeps the famous Hermione Granger busy these days?” 

“Work.”

He waits expectantly and smiles even bigger when she says nothing further. “Well, I’ve heard a bit from Neville, of course. You keep a low profile, Ms. Granger.” 

I don’t like the emphasis he puts on her name, but at this point I’d pair her with the Giant Squid just to cross her name off of my list. 

She doesn’t seem particularly amused either. 

“And you, Mr. McLaggen?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” He’s laughing, scooting his chair closer to her around the table, seemingly oblivious as she inches away. “Playing quidditch still, just for laughs, of course. I work for my father’s company-- taking it over slowly. Haven’t had much luck in the romance department though.”

“I cannot imagine why.” She deadpans and I chuckle into my bow. 

“Well, lots of travel for starters, hard to settle down and get to know anyone. But, I know you already, don’t I?”

“Do you?” She murmurs, nodding thanks to the barkeep as he sets a glass of pumpkin juice down before her. 

I pluck an arrow from the quiver upon my back, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible, and take aim. 

A number of things transpire at once, and though a god I may be, the sight I have not. So it is with as much surprise as to anyone that the scene before me unfolds as the arrow leaves my bow: 

The barkeep turns, glass of firewhiskey on his tray, as the chime sounds over the door once again. A tousle of messy hair and glasses barrels through the door towing a man haphazardly behind him as he races toward them, bellowing her name.

“Hermione!”

The man he’s towing trips forward over the threshold and careens into the barkeep. The firewhiskey leaves the tray, launching into the air as McLaggen rises to his feet in shock. Hermione’s chair slips sideways as the barkeep tumbles to the floor. She lands on the ground with a thud as my arrow meets an unintended mark. 

I hear a string of swear words fall from my lips and then my mouth hangs agape like a fish.

“Hermione! Neville just told me you were going to be here with him,” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder toward a dumbstruck Cormac as he helps her to her feet. “I had no idea it was him!” 

She is straightening her robes and staring at Cormac and Neville who are staring at one another as I cringe and want to disappear. 

“Harry--”

But she is interrupted. “Don’t go out with Hermione. I-- I-- I love you.” The man Harry towed in is sputtering as he steps forward. 

“Oh, fuck me.” I mutter as Cormac swats at his shoulder where I hit him with the arrow and he locks eyes with the blubbering idiot. 

“Longbottom?” Cormac murmurs, a question, as he takes a step toward him.

Longbottom… I pause and look at my list. The name looks familiar and I scan. Longbottom, Augusta, I glance up again. He doesn’t look like an Augusta. I continue down the list and there he is: Neville Longbottom. 

“It’s always been you.” 

I cross Longbottom, Neville and McLaggen, Cormac off my list quickly and look back down at them all again. McLaggen is holding Neville’s hands now, looking both smarmy and bewildered. Hermione and Harry are staring at them, the barkeep is pulling himself back up from the floor, and I still want to fucking die. This couldn’t possibly be worse. 

“Nice job, little brother.”

I close my eyes and stop breathing. 

How does a god die? Can I figure it out and be successful before this day continues?

I glance down again and Cormac McLaggen and Neville Longbottom are locked in an embrace. I begin to wonder if they’re still breathing because their mouths are clearly occupied elsewhere and their noses seem to be smushed together in an impossible fit of puzzlework.

Hermione is standing now, a nonplussed look upon her face as she, Harry and the barkeep stare at the scene before them.

“Dating you seems to have a unique affect on people, Granger. I’ve seen more of your dates find their one true love than...”

“Yes, thank you.” Her voice is clipped and I dare a glance at my brother beside me. He is rolling on the floor, tears of laughter streaming down his face. 

I really hate that man. 

“Nott and I ran into Neville and he was blubbering on about Cormac finding love. I’m so sorry, Hermione. As soon as I figured out it was you he set him up with we dashed here. To think, he was in love with McLaggen himself!”

“I seem to have that effect on people…” 

I can hear Hermione and Harry as I sit down and stare at my brother.

“What do you want, Tim?”

He’s struggling to his feet and I’m overwhelmed with the desire to kick him. 

But, he’s a lot bigger than me.

“I’ll give you that one.” He says, ruffling my hair. “But, if you call me that again…”

“Metus does!” I protest, but I know it’s pointless because he’s not laughing any longer.

“Metus is my twin brother. You are my baby brother.”

I’m chewing my tongue when I respond. “What do you want, Timor.”

“It’s your lucky day, sprite.” 

I wonder if I could shoot a poison tipped arrow at him with more luck than I currently have with Granger. 

“Concordia has been watching you.” 

I cringe. “She has?”

“Oh, yes. Father and I have been at war and have just returned. You’ve quite a gathering of spectators, brother.”

I wince. “Have I?”

“Metus is taking bets and Concordia is practically beside herself at your failures.”

“It’s not failures.” I grumble. “It’s just one. Just this one.”

“Your multiple failures with this one, are creating quite a stir back home.” He’s laughing again, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’ve come to help.”

I pale. “No.”

“Oh, yes. Father condoned it.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Too late, brother.”

“And what would YOU, God of fear know about love?”

He’s chuckling as he steers me. “My knowledge of love making is second to none!”

“Not love making! LOVE!”

But it is useless, and as he drags me from my cloud, a smile splitting his face, I have no choice but to follow under his iron tight grasp.


	2. A Sledgehammer to Crack a Nut

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Hush.”

“I don’t understand how you would possibly even think this is going to work.”

“You’re going to spoil it!”

I jump up and down and wave my arms in the air, hollering as loudly as I can. “They can’t hear us! I’m ruining nothing!”

“You’re ruining my concentration!”

I stare at my bow in his hands. “Do you even know how to use that?”

He raises his brow. “It’s a weapon. Of course I know how to use it. I’m trained in all manners of weaponry.”

“It’s not a weapon.”

“Do you not use it to force your will upon others?”

I stare at him. “It’s a weapon of love, then.”

“Fine. I’m going to rain love down upon them with the force of Jupiter!”

The skies light up with lightening, slicing through the sky around us, and I duck behind my brother. “He didn’t mean it!” I shout toward the heavens. My brother seems not to notice. 

“It’s so good to see you!” Hermione’s voice attracts my attention and I look down toward the ground. She’s back at her usual haunt and greeting someone I cannot see. She looks nicer, at least, and I think she must not be dreading this particular date.

I stand on my tiptoes to see around my brother’s shoulder, but it’s like trying to see through a wall, so I try to duck beneath him instead. 

“Who’s she meeting?”

“Be quiet.” He nudges me with his hip and I go flying. I’m profoundly annoyed as I stretch my wings and flit back to where he is, settling over his left shoulder.

As the scene before my eyes begins to unfold, I laugh out loud in his ear. 

“Timor, do you actually know anything about Hermione Granger?”

“I’m going to flick you.” There is an edge in his voice and I wonder what he has riding on this, assuming he’s taken a bet. I back away anyway, because the last time he flicked me it took my tired wings a week to get me home. 

“Timor, she doesn’t, er-- Hermione isn’t interested in… her.”

“Of course she is, but that’s not the point.”

I blink at him dumbly. “What?”

“Of course Granger is interested in her. She wouldn’t be meeting her if she wasn’t.”

“They’re friends.” I cannot believe that I am having this conversation with my brother, the god of fear. “They were comrades in war, Timor. That’s Luna Lovegood. She’s on my list later! They’re friends. They’re not susceptible to… love.”

It is his turn to blink as he wheels around to stare at me. “They fought together. They’d have died for one another. She would definitely be interested.”

“That’s--” I splutter. “That’s not how it works! That’s not how any of this works!”

“Oh?” He tilts his head to the side, sizing me up. “I suppose you’ve fought a few wars now that I don’t know about?”

“No, but--”

“A battle, at least?”

I shake my head. 

“Then you know nothing of war.”

“I know about love!”

He scoffs and turns back to Hermione who is now laughing over a glass of firewhiskey. Luna is handing her a flower from her plait, and Hermione sniffs it before handing it back. Was he right?

Without warning I see him tense beside me. He snaps his finger and one of my arrows is suddenly aflame. 

“What are you doing?!”

“If I have to quiet you one more time…”

“You are going to kill someone!”

“My aim is impeccable. Hush, pixie.”

He fires and I watch the arrow fly over their heads, out the window and up into the sky above them. 

He missed. 

I’ve never been so gleeful in my entire life. 

“God. Of. Fear.” It’s my turn to roll on the floor, laughing. 

He doesn’t even turn to look at me. 

“You missed!” I’m wiping tears from my eyes as I clutch my sides. “The god of fear, my big brother, fighting battles with daddy, and your big, scary, flaming arrow missed!” 

Suddenly screaming and panic are filling the air around us, and when I look up I see that he is still smiling. 

I scramble to my feet and fly over top of him again. Hermione and Luna are racing outside to where a man is lying crumpled on the ground next to a flaming broom. They’re making such a fuss over him, looking up in the sky and all around. He seems mostly unscathed and as he draws himself up from the ground I do a double take. 

“You set a Weasley on fire?”

“You can barely tell with that hair.” He quips.

“Granger isn’t into Weasleys.” 

“Yes, she is. You just tried the wrong Weasley.”

“I most certainly did no--”

But there she is on one side of him, Luna on the other, and they’re helping him to his feet as the barkeep shouts an aguamenti toward the smoldering broom wreckage.

“Charlie! Are you alright?”

“Granger! Get out of there, are you mad?”

“Help us, then!” 

“Make sure you extinguish it completely or the fairies will feed on the embers!”

The barkeep is waving his hand dismissively toward Luna as they carry Charlie under the sign for the Blind Dragon and through the door, setting him at their table. 

Hermione is pressing a cool cloth to his forehead and Luna is rifling behind the bar for a glass as the barkeep returns. 

“Get on the other side, Lovegood! Granger, keep your friends in line!” He’s grumbling as he brings a glass of water for Charlie. 

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” His tone is sarcastic, but he looks genuinely concerned as he hovers in the vicinity. 

“Are you quite certain you don’t need to go to St. Mungos?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I don’t know what happened, though. One minute I was flying and the next my damned broom was on fire! It went up so quickly I lost all control and it was ash in my hands as I fell.” He pauses, staring out the window. “My broom was on fire!”

“And nearly my pub.” The barkeep mumbles, shaking his head. 

“That was the most frightening thing I’ve ever seen.”

“The most frightening I’ve experienced, and I work with dragons.”

My brother is smiling wickedly as I sneak a glance toward him.

“We’ve been through a war.”

“Well, the most frightening thing in a long time.”

Timor’s smile falters, but he’s still gazing determinedly at them. 

“A round of gilllywaters,” Hermione says over her shoulder “if you would, please.”

He nods and disappears, mumbling to himself.

“How many of these arrows do I need?” My brother asks, pulling them from the quiver. 

“You meant to set him on fire?”

“Of course.”

“You aren’t trying to set Hermione up with Luna?”

“Certainly not.” He’s loading two bows into the arrow now.

“You knew she wouldn’t be interested?’

“She would be, I told you. But, no. A girls night out, a bit of a fright: the mood is set now for romance.”

“Murder and death don’t generally hearken romance, Timor.”

“Of course they do. I have fought many. And loved more.”

“But--”

“Now, how does this work?”

I sigh resignedly and wave my hand toward the bows. “You only need one. Hit Hermione and the first person she sees… instant love.”

“So then, two will work even better.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Why?”

“What if you miss?”

He drew himself to full height, dwarfing me all the more. I hate when he does that. 

“I never miss.”

“Another round?” The barkeep is plying them with gillywater now, settled in with the group as they laugh and recount the afternoon’s story. 

“And you work with dragons?”

“Yes, in Romania mostly.”

“And do the--”

A couple is waiting for service at the bar and so he wanders away annoyedly, giving them their drinks and sending them outside before flipping the sign to “Closed”.

When I look back, Charlie’s holding a lively conversation with Hermione about dragon breeding rights activism and Luna is staring into her glass. 

“Did you know the reflection of a fairie gorged on embers is said to have lit the first dragon’s breath?”

I wonder how long Timor plans on waiting before he takes aim and ends this entire debacle. 

“Try not to actually kill anyone, please.” I grumble as I see him aiming directly for them. 

“Three--”

He takes a deep breath and I watch as Hermione laughs, looking around the room and motioning to the barkeep before returning to her conversation.

“Two--”

She budges over as he joins them once again and they all lift their glasses into the air.

“One--”

As my brother’s arrows leave the bow, Charlie stands suddenly and they all follow suit, Luna climbing onto the table to reach her glass high enough to meet the others’. One strikes her in the left shoulder as the other pierces Charlie’s right. 

Their eyes meet and I groan, sinking to the ground. My brother’s eyes are wide as he shakes with fury. 

“That’s impossible!”

“Mhmmm.”

“I never miss!”

“I know.”

“Your bow is broken!”

I laugh, but quiet myself quickly as the sky begins to darken around them. “Timor, listen...”

“They were obviously not afraid enough.”

“That’s--”

The air around us crackles with energy and I glance from side to side in a panic. This is not good. 

“Hello Metus.” I squeak as my other brother strides toward us. 

“It would seem you’re in need of a bit of terror.” He claps a hand on Timor’s shoulder as they face the group below them together.

I want to argue. I want to tell them that this is a terrible idea. But, they aren’t listening anyway. I almost feel badly for the group below us as I watch the scene unfold. 

“What the hell is going on with this weather?” The barkeep is standing now, peering out the window as Charlie and Luna stand there, gazing adoringly at one another. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as the building shakes around them again. 

“Nothing we can’t handle together.” Luna murmurs, stretching up to kiss him gently. 

“I’m sorry-- did I miss something?” Hermione is staring, baffled, from one to the other. 

A branch thuds against the window and I know it will break before the shattering glass fills the air. The lights go out.

“Lumos,” whispers Hermione as she stares around the pub. “That’s impossible. The lights only go out with muggle electricity?”

“Is that a question, Granger?” 

“A statement. This makes no-- duck!”

They all hit the ground, Charlie pinning Luna beneath the table protectively as the roof explodes above them. 

“What the actual fuck--” the barkeep is crawling on all fours as he and Hermione scramble away from the windows and doors. 

“Will you two get over here!” Hermione bellows, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. 

“She seems more annoyed than terrified.” Timor grumbles. 

Metus cocks an eyebrow and grabs the quiver from our brother’s grasp. “Nothing a bit more fire can’t fix.”

My eyes widen as I watch him take the entire sack.

“No! No, no, no, no, no.” I shout, flitting between them and plucking the arrows from my bow. “Absolutely not! I need to find her true love, not skewer them!”

“This is how you win a war!”

“I always told father he didn’t have the appetite for it.”

“This is not war! It’s to be love, you barbarians! I cannot make anyone fall in love with her if she’s pierced and sliced into a thousand pieces and then set on fire and served up on a platter well done!”

They’re both staring from me to the ground below where the four are crawling toward safety as the air above them swirls and explodes around them. 

“Fine.” Timor says as he and Metus shrug their shoulders. 

The air stills and the evening sky is cool and calm once again as they depart, leaving chaos and destruction in their wake.

“Don’t say we never help you!” Metus calls as they disappear. 

I glance down at the four and want to cry with frustration. 

Hermione is peering into the night sky. “Its…. it’s gone. There’s no sign of the weather.”

“How bad is the damage?”

“It… it appears it was only here. Your pub?”

“Another question, Granger?”

She gestures to the street and shrugs her shoulders. 

“Just my luck.” He is glowering down the street as he scans left and right. 

“Where’s Luna?”

A soft tinkle of laughter sounds from beneath a table, and as Hermione peeks beneath, jumping back squealing, I realize simultaneously what she’s seen. 

“Oh for fucks-- not on my floor Weasley, Lovegood!”

I can’t handle much more today and turn in the air to leave. Perhaps Hermione Granger should remain single.


	3. All Roads Lead to Rome

I’ve been staring into my glass for an hour now, watching the cubes melt and swirl in the glass. Firewhiskey, a favorite of Miss Hermione Granger’s after a particularly long day. It’s not bad.

Failure isn’t generally commonplace up here and I’ve become a bit of a laughingstock. I want to give up, but just quitting isn’t an option. I’ve decided I need to go about this a bit differently. Obviously, a traditional match won’t work for Hermione Granger. Short of simply shooting her as she walks down the street and allowing the chips to fall where they may, I’m at a loss. 

A hand claps down upon my shoulder and two stools slide out around me at the table. I look up slowly, expecting to see my brothers again, but blink in surprise. 

“Cupid.”

I blink. “Juno. Vesta.”

“We hear you’ve been having some difficulty.”

I nod slowly. “Seems everyone knows.”

“We’re here to help.”

I don’t trust them. “What’s in it for you?”

“Our reputation.”

“To be honest, the Greeks are starting to judge us quite harshly. Your reputation is spreading.”

“Rep-- reputation?” I explode. “A reputation?! After centuries of finding love for more souls than I can count, one difficulty has become my reputation?!” 

Juno shrugs. “You need us.”

“I most certainly do not.”

“No one knows marriage better than I.”

“Nor domestic life better than I!”

I snort, because the idea of Hermione Granger desiring domestication is laughable. 

“We’ve done a bit of research and with a bit of cunning, we’ve found the perfect man for Hermione Granger.”

“You have?”

“Absolutely.”

“How did you manage this?”

Vesta is smiling as she flips her hair over her shoulder. “What do you know about Hermione Granger?”

I am torn between annoyance and intrigue and decide to play along. “Hermione Granger, witch, works for their particular brand of magical government. She likes cats, dislikes sports, studious, passionate, driven, ambitious, cat lover…”

“Such a man.” Vesta laughs and Juno rolls her eyes.

“Who are her friends?”

I grumble. “Her best friend is Harry Potter, but they’re not romantically involved.”

They laugh and I can tell I’m missing something already. “What does she do in her spare time?”

“Read. Take care of Harry. And date… unsuccessfully.”

“Where does she spend time?”

“Work. The Blind Dragon. And with Harry... I know all of these things!” 

“Common denominator?” 

It’s like a pop quiz and the world’s dumbest line of questioning. “No love life?”

“Harry Potter. No wonder you’re failing!” Juno take a sip of my drink and pulls a face. “This is disgusting.”

“I wasn’t sharing, thanks. And, in case you don’t recall, as I mentioned before, Harry and Hermione aren’t the least bit interested in one another.”

“Catch up now, Cupey.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Hermione spends her time with Harry.”

“Right.” I feel as if we’re just repeating ourselves now and I’m done with this game. 

“Who else spends their time with Harry?”

I haven’t the slightest idea. 

“Potter is under the P’s. I don’t know who he runs about with! I tackle the list in order. And you lot have me jumping around willy-nilly. Longbottom, Lovegood, Weasley, McLaggen— I’m supposed to be on the G’s! Granger! G!”

They’re staring at me like one might gaze at a toddler in need of a nap. It does nothing for my mood. 

“Why do you even want to help me?”

“We know what it’s like to be an outcast.”

“You, really?” I look them up and down. Liars. 

“Swallowed by our father. Ring a bell?”

“Okay, but—”

“Swallowed whole by our father, Cupid. The whole lot of us! We get it.”

I’m still frowning. It doesn’t seem quite a similar comparison, but… 

“Follow us.” Vesta beckons me as they stride forward. 

“But—” They’ve already disappeared around the bend though, and I sigh resignedly as I take off into the air to follow. 

I hear her voice again as I join them in the cloud. The place looks the same as ever. “This place was in shambles last time I was here.”

“They use magic. And it’s been a month you’ve been hiding now.”

Really? A month? 

She’s playing with a strand of her hair, sitting at the bar with a glass of pumpkin juice. 

“You’re going to make the customers think there’s nothing else worth drinking, Granger.”

She laughs, taking a large gulp, her eyes twinkling. “I’ll move to water next.”

“Can’t even trust the juice? You’ll put me right out of business.” 

“Nearly didn't have to try. How does everyone seem to like the renovations?”

“Same reports every time you ask, Hermione. Everyone is appreciative and I should thank you. You seem to have more of a reputation here than I do.”

“I didn’t burn the place to the ground. Just a few helpful suggestions to elevate during rebuild! And I don’t know what reputation you’re referring to.”

“Hermione Granger: always helpful. Hermione Granger: more matches than Cupid.” He laughs and sets a gillywater in front of her as she rolls her eyes. 

I want to punch him. More matches? Let’s compare records for the last century, shall we? 

“No, no thank you. Just water, please. I’m meeting Harry.”

“It is water.”

She raises an eyebrow and he chuckles before switching her glass. “Fine.”

Taking a sip, she smiles before responding. “You’re the one playing Cupid. Every recent wedding takes place after they meet their soulmate here.”

“No one is giving the Blind Dragon or me credit. Word is, Hermione Granger hangs about the pub below her flat and if you time it right, you meet the love of your life when she’s there.”

“More like, Granger’s dates fall in love with anyone other than her whilst they’re out.”

I’m watching the exchange with interest. Perhaps Vesta and Juno are onto something I hadn’t thought of yet. Perhaps— 

There is a soft tinkling sound as the bell rings and the door opens. Harry trips through the front door and glances around. Hermione is waving wildly from the bar and he’s smiling as he walks over. He’s awfully dressed up. 

“Hermione!” 

Vesta and Juno are smiling at the exchange already. “There he is. Get ready, Cupey!”

“Are you ready, Harry?” 

“Take aim.”

I haven’t even lifted my bow. Annoyance doesn’t even begin to cover this. 

“Hermione, are you ready? I told you to be dressed!”

“Get him quick before they move!” 

“You were a bit vague, Harry. I’m dressed, but I didn’t realize we were going anywhere fancy...”

I absolutely refuse to raise my bow, watching the entire scene with fascination. 

“It’s fine, this will do. She looks lovely, Potter. We should get a move on before we’re late.”

I’m staring at the man behind Harry now. He’s half hidden behind Harry’s back and… they’re holding hands. 

“Get him, Cupid!”

“I’m not sticking Harry Potter with an arrow!” I explode. 

“What!” Juno and Vesta have both whirled around to stare at me, eyes wide and angry. 

“No! I refuse. Do you know anything about that man? Harry Potter hasn’t had a life of free will or choice since birth. He’s been destined for this and bound for that and— no. Absolutely not.” 

“We’re not talking about Harry, you dolt!”

They’re pointing at the man behind him now. The one still holding Harry’s hand, the other tracing patterns on his back. 

“That won’t work.”

“And just why not?”

They’re talking to Hermione and I haven’t been listening but as Harry raises his hand into the air she practically falls off her stool. “Today? You and Theo? Now? How long— WHAT?!”

Hermione has jumped off her stool and she’s wrapping the two of them in her arms. They’re laughing and twirling as she shouts her congratulations and I can see Vesta and Juno, mouths agape, as they stare below. 

“Told you.”

“But… but he was perfect!”

I raise an eyebrow. 

“He’s always with Hermione!”

“No, he’s always there because of Harry.” 

“I see that now!” Vesta is seething. 

I see the barkeep bringing out a bottle of champagne and Harry holds up his hand. “No, not yet! We’ll be late. Hold that there and we’ll be back to celebrate when we’re through!” 

“Leave her be.” Vesta huffs. 

“She’s destined to be a spinster.” Juno yawns, turning on her heel. 

I smirk, because they’re missing everything. 

The barkeep turns and draws another mark on the chalkboard. “Harry Potter and Theodore Nott. You’ve racked up an even baker’s dozen, Granger.” He murmurs with a smile as he turns back to the rest of his patrons. 

They’re dashing out the door now, dragging Hermione behind them. Her hair is trailing behind her out the door as she calls over her shoulder. “Save me that drink, Draco?” 

The barkeep smiles and nods. “Always, Granger.” 

Vesta and Juno have about vanished from sight. They don’t see it. But I do. Hermione Granger will be just fine, I decide, as I cross her name and another name not far below it off my list. Malfoy, Draco. 

I’m Cupid, son of Mars and Venus, and I know love.


End file.
